


The Beauty and the War

by florencedrunk (spokenitalics)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Slice of Life, Translation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-31 08:30:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12128553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spokenitalics/pseuds/florencedrunk
Summary: #01. The Beauty and the War;In war, beauty is a wasted luxury.#02. You're way too young {to have someone lie to you};You're way too young to play these games, but you better start.#03. She's the girl everybody wanted;The right words out of the wrong mouths.#04. Of flesh and bones we're made - part one;A cat hissing at a giant made of steel.#05. Of passion and desire we live - part two;Together, in the only battle they won't be able to win.#06. Today, just for today;Even without looking, they found each other.#07. Silence of the ghosts;Every scar is a story that will never be told.#08. The name of a soldier;James.#09. The name of a spider;Nat?#10. Swallow the sorrow, keep moving on;Monsters barren of pity.A collection of short stories set during Natasha's training at the Red Room. Translation of aworkbyFuuma.





	1. The Beauty and the War

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [The Beauty and The War](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6737488) by [Fuuma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fuuma/pseuds/Fuuma). 



In war, beauty is a wasted luxury. And yet Natal'ja is a red rose blossomed in the snow, protected by the silver wing of a Winter Ghost.

She kills dancing, becomes fragrant wind, and her hands catch the prey faster than anyone else. Tiny little industrious paws; she knows how to kill with anything, Natal'ja, even with a kiss.

Bucky watches her through the scope of a rifle, a bullet loaded for her too — _if she ever made a mistake_. But Natal'ja never does, and every time she returns to him with the smile of a hungry spider and the sad eyes of a flower reddened not by its petals, but by blood.

There's no beauty that war doesn't take away.

 


	2. You're way too young {to have someone lie to you}

_Are you okay?_ The question is in the stripes of duct tape Bucky tears off with his teeth and uses to patch her up. The doll _is broken_ , but can still hurt — on her chest the dagger with which she continued to strike, opening, slashing, making her way to the exit.

Her against the world. Alone even with him. But in that desert of ice their life is, everyone is alone.

The glue sticks to the skin, Natal'ja grits her teeth, screams in silence. No tears, just shame for her mistakes.

"Я облажался.[1]" she confesses with her head bowed.

Bucky's answer is as cruel as the truth: " _Da._ [2]" but his hand, lingering on her, is already forgiving her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] I screwed up.  
> [2] Yes.


	3. She's the girl everybody wanted

Natal'ja burns her lips red with the tip of the lipstick. She doesn't recognise the face in the mirror: it's a mask of elegant colours, sensual shades, and long eyelashes around doe eyes.

"My sweet little mermaid," whispers someone, an English accent in his mouth and a hand between her thighs. She inhales his breath of vodka and rum and, sitting on his lap, bids him farewell with the blade of a dagger.

"Моя прекрасная чёрная вдова.[1]" someone applauds, welcoming her _home_.

But none of the praises ever come from _him_.

"Как я выгляжу?[2]" she asks him, twirling around.

Bucky looks at her like one looks at the precious things ruined by life.

"молодой.[3]"

No praise, just the bitterness of the facts.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] My beautiful Black Widow.  
> [2] How do I look?  
> [3] Young.


	4. Of flesh and bones we're made - part one

The flesh is hard under Natal'ja's fist, and the skin of her knuckles reddens, breaks, wounds, but she has to hit harder if she wants to make him falter. When it happens, she's onto him. She blows fog in his face and consumes its oxygen in between breaths.

She's a wildcat, Natal'ja: he sharpened her claws himself and starved her of victory. But she's a cat crouched on a war machine and, when Bucky's metal arm squeezes her neck and slams her to the ground, she's back at the starting point: the student incapable of surpassing the master.

 _And yet so close._ _So_ damn _close_. So _extraordinarily_ close.


	5. Of passion and desire we live - part two

The flesh is soft under Bucky's caress: the steel steams up when his thumb brushes against Natal'ja's parted lips: her tongue is a bold snake that licks away the cold but poisons him with arousal.

He can't, he shouldn't. It's wrong. But, both have learned, there are worse mistakes. This one will at least be just theirs — _no string-pullers, no autopilot._

The frozen wind scratches their wounds, their clothes are wet with snow, and Natal'ja's eyes speak to him of a love that is poison for those like them. That is unfair, and _wrong_.

"Зима.[1]"

"Не говори.[2]" Bucky shuts the words in her mouth. He can't save her, but if they'll have to condemn themselves, may he be the one to do so.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Winter. (That's what Natasha knows Bucky as)  
> [2] Don't say it.


	6. Today, just for today

Bucky touches her with the tip of his fingers and sinks into her eyes, digging until he finds the first tremor.

Natal'ja's breathing vibrates on her swollen lips and sways on her full breasts. White the skin sprinkled with shivers, black the clothes on the ground, red the soul, sold.

Their first kiss is a desperate encounter of cold-bitten mouths, an attempt to look past the nightmares and find out what's there. _More nightmares,_ they presume. _More cold._

Bucky's metal hand leaves white-hot marks, but the warmth — the true warmth — is an illusion they don't chase.

Natal'ja moans, Bucky pushes and devours her.

They don't look for anything. They take what's there to take, leaving aside the _us_ and any kind of future.


	7. Silence of the ghosts

On Bucky's back there's a firmament of scars which Natal'ja joins together in stories she only knows the end of. Some have the shape of small stars burst in the flesh: when she touches them the Soldier raises his head from the pillow — he doesn't rest, leaves sleep to the ice.

The corner of his eye is a cold shard of water he aims at her like a weapon, but, from up close, he can't hide the air bubbles of a submerged corpse. A conscience, a past, relics of another him.

"Когда вы говорите мне свою историюm?[1]" A whisper, a kiss on his ear: Natal'ja tames the assassin, reclaims the man for herself.

Bucky leans back onto the pillow.

His story is made up of blank pages, silent like spectres.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] When will you tell me your story?


	8. The name of a soldier

Natal'ja folds herself between the Soldier's legs, pulls her knees to her chest and makes herself small against him. She curls up into his embrace, and only _looks_ normal as she browses through the dossier of a man unaware he's already dead.

"Не кажется ли вам что я заслуживаю по крайней мере знать ваше имя?[1]" In his eyes, she looks for answers more profound than a name, _looks for a place to call home_. What she finds is just one word with no edge left.

" _No._ " Low, rattled. _American_. He trains her even in this.

She abandons the eyes and aims for his mouth.

"What's your name, Soldier?" The kiss is like her accent: _perfect_.

"James."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Don't you think I deserve at least to know your name?


	9. The name of a spider

Soči is silent under the snow, and the Black Sea is velvet in Natal'ja's eyes.

James grips her wrist — he tatooes fresh bruises on her skin, in a violent intimacy that, in the end, is all they know.

The time left is little, and their life paused.

"Would you have ever guessed it?" Natal'ja leans on his shoulder; the plates move to cushion her. "The sea makes the same sound as my name."

James thinks about it. Pronouncing it for the first time, his voice is a novelty to be discovered, a gush of icy water in the black evening of Soči.

" _Nat?_ "

The same sound: that of a deranged heartbeat stuck in his throat.


	10. Swallow the sorrow, keep moving on

_Alina moved through life as if she was dancing. She laughed cheerfully and killed her victims in their sleep, as gentle as an angel._  
_She had the effervescence of a childhood Natal'ja envied her, fresh, untouched by the reprogramming. With her, on the stage of the Bol'šoj, even the Black Widow returned human._

In Alina's eyes everything becomes infinite, even horror.  
_Click._  
The ballerina trips.  
The curtain falls.  
_Forever_ — Natal'ja sobs, her eyes remain dry.  
From the cockpit of the SM-1, the Soldier stretches, every sense aimed towards _his_ spider — he loves without pity, James. "Your hand, Nat!" he orders, and Natal'ja obeys.

«…не дай мне здесь[1]…» Alina's voice is ash in the wind.

In the Soldier's arm, Natal'ja is barren of tears. _They both are._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] ...don't leave me here...


End file.
